


Someone to Watch Over Me

by nightofnyx8



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Doctor/Patient, F/M, Friendship, Hopeful Ending, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Ishval Civil War, Medical, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:02:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29972259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightofnyx8/pseuds/nightofnyx8
Summary: To: Amestrian Military, Eastern CommandTo Whomever it May Concern: Please excuse Colonel Roy Mustang for the next three days. He is being forced to stay in the Eastern City Central Hospital as he cannot expect to lead an investigation two hours after being shot. For further information of his stupidity, please refer to Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.Signed, Dr. James Henry Kallen, MD
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 9
Kudos: 49





	Someone to Watch Over Me

“Wherever the art of medicine is loved, there is also a love of humanity.”

-Hippocrates

\- 

Doctor James Kallen considered himself to be a fairly reasonable man. 

His quarterly reviews would say so, he supposed. Dr. Kallen’s work was nothing short of precise, following procedure with exactness and quick thinking—a respectable surgeon that any hospital would be proud to accommodate. 

He did his work efficiently yet effectively. His mind and his hands were cold, working with careful precision while his heart burned to save the life before him. Once the operation was completed, he was more than considerate to the worried guests in the waiting area. Visiting hours could be extended for special circumstances. 

After his service as a medical doctor to Amestrian soldiers in the Ishvalan Civil War, Dr. Kallen had taken a position at East City Central Hospital, where he could continue his medical practice as a ordinary citizen of Amestris. He was known for his calm demeanor and caring heart, as well as his extraordinary program for new interns. No matter the news, he would deliver it with the utmost respect and compassion, and in the most gentle yet straightforward way he could. 

Yes, Dr. Kallen considered himself to be a reasonable man.

As long as Colonel Roy Mustang wasn’t in the same room.

Dr. Kallen had three rules for visitors and patients alike.

1\. All military interrogations involving his patients must be done in the presence of himself or one of his trusted nurses (These interrogations had a habit of disrupting his patients’ treatment).  
2\. No visitors were allowed in the operating room during procedures—hospital personal only.  
3\. Absolutely no alcohol whatsoever. 

Colonel Roy Mustang had broken all three of these rules…on multiple occasions.

It wasn’t that Dr. Kallen thought ill of the Colonel. On the contrary—he thought the man to be respectable, driven, and intelligent. 

And way too protective of his subordinates. 

The Colonel was the perfect, ever-collected officer, until one of his men ended up in the hospital with a broken limb of some sort. He practically stalked the doctor around, asking for updates and demanding faster treatment. It was impossible to get anything done. 

And that was when his Lieutenant wasn’t involved. 

If Mustang was annoying when his men were his patients, he was downright insufferable when his trusted Lieutenant occupied one of their beds. He absolutely refused to leave her side, no matter what Dr. Kallen said. He often ended up treating the Colonel as well, as the stubborn man refused to eat or sleep until his Lieutenant was in the clear again.

“You know, you’re here so often that you might as well make yourself her first of kin.” He had joked after Mustang had spent an entire two weeks tending to his Lieutenant after she had taken a bullet to the shoulder.

He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised when the Colonel had taken him seriously. The paperwork was finalized the next day. 

Perhaps he was being too hard on the Colonel. He had gotten to know each one of the members on the unit, as he had treated each one. Warrant Officer Falman was a good-natured man, never once complaining of the pain of his injuries and following the prescribed treatment to the tee. Second Lieutenant Breda on the other hand always complained, but usually shut up about it after being given the dinner menu. He liked to play chess against the Doctor in-between his rounds. Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc was impatient to be out as soon as possible, but the Doctor always liked his jokes (although he would have liked Havoc better if he didn’t flirt with his nurses so much). Master Sergeant Fuery, the newest addition, was polite and cheerful, and he got the feeling the Colonel kept the kid away from the front lines as much as possible. 

Even with the Colonel breathing down his neck, the Doctor enjoyed having Lieutenant Hawkeye as a patient. Though she wasn’t as talkative as the rest of her team, the Doctor found her comments to be insightful, the two having had many pleasant conversations over the years. He often marveled how this woman ended up with this rag-tag team of officers, seeing as how she held more brain cells than the rest of them put together. 

Colonel Mustang himself proved to be an impossible patient. He worked instead of sleeping, argued with every treatment given to him, and had a nasty habit of leaving the hospital before he was officially discharged. 

“That man will send me to an early grave, Jessica.” he told his wife one night after the Colonel had refused to go to physical therapy again because he was “too busy working.”

His wife smiled and patted his shoulder. “We should invite them to dinner again this week.”

As an certified orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Kallen was especially satisfied with his work. He loved treating each one of his patients, and seeing them leave the hospital alive and well. Of course, there were always patients who passed away during their operations, or afterwards due to complications. As he placed the white cloth over their heads, he did his best not imagine them in a soldier’s uniform, covered in dust and blood to be sent to the mortuary. Sometimes his hands would start to shake, and he knew it was only a matter of time. He would spend the rest of the night in Jessica’s embrace to avoid the nightmares, her fingers gently wiping away his tears. 

He supposed, as Fuhrer King Bradley had once told him, that he simply cared too much. 

Dr. Kallen very much enjoyed East City. He liked feeling of a smaller city, though not out in the middle of the country. He would have liked to remain, however his life rarely worked out according to plan. After the announcement that his wife was expecting, the mutual decision was made to move to Central City in order to be closer to Jessica’s family. 

The unit had thrown him a small farewell party during his final night in the hospital. He had received cards from each one of them expressing their gratitude for their treatment (Havoc made sure to include that he would miss seeing the Doctor’s sunburnt face match his hair during the summers). 

“Well, it’s been fun.” The doctor said as they raised another toast of champagne (the ban had been temporarily lifted). “Though I must say, I’m certainly not going to miss dealing with you lot when you all inevitably end up in the hospital again.”

Sergeant Fuery looked like he wanted to say something, but a single look from the Colonel silenced him. 

Dr. Kallen and Jessica had settled into their new house early the next week, and the doctor devoted the rest of his time getting accustomed to the Central City Hospital, right across from Central Command. The instruments were shinier, the interns more ambitious, but overall it was exactly the same as the East City Hospital. And as much as he hated to admit it, it felt a little empty without the old unit interrupting his day. 

And so when the Colonel had shown up a week later at the hospital, he almost couldn’t believe his eyes when Mustang practically sang that he and his entire unit had been transferred to Central as well, and how lucky they were to have such a good doctor looking after them. 

Dr. Kallen threw his clipboard at him.

-

They didn’t even last two weeks. 

The call rattled through the house at 2 AM—the only reason anyone would be calling would be for an absolute emergency. 

Jessica stirred next to him. “Who is it?” she murmured, half asleep. Dr. Kallen sluggishly answered the phone, but the news on the receiver jolted him awake almost immediately. 

He changed quickly and slid on his coat, rummaging the pockets for his keys in a hurry.

“I’m sorry dear, but I have to go in.” He said to his wife as he kissed her cheek. “There’s been an emergency down at Laboratory 5, and there are two wounded soldiers. I’ll be back hopefully before lunch. Tell our Sarah that I love her.”

Dr. Kallen got to the hospital just in time to see his team running along two stretchers, debating what to do with the patients accompanying them. 

“What do we have?” Dr. Kallen shouted, catching up with the group.

“Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc, injury to the spinal chord. He’s already lost a lot of blood, and is in critical condition--he’ll need surgery right away.”

“And the second?”

“Colonel Roy Mustang, stab wounds to the abdomen, left side. Lots of internal bleeding, though the worst of it seems to be cauterized for now. Also in critical condition.”

“Send Lieutenant Havoc to Room 325, and go wake Dr. Call. He’s the best spine specialist we have. Take Colonel Mustang to my operating room down the hall.”

“Right away, Doctor.”

“Dr. Kallen, please!” The doctor turned to see Lieutenant Hawkeye bolting after them. She had a couple scrapes, but otherwise looked unharmed. 

“Lieutenant, please go to the waiting room!” The doctor called behind him. “We’ll get them out as soon as possible!”

“I can’t!” she heaved, out of breath as she ran with the stretcher as well. “I have to make sure they’re alright!”

Dr. Kallen looked helplessly at one of his interns, and he nodded. The intern held back the Lieutenant as they directed the stretchers through the doors that led to the operation rooms. He could still see her face streaked with tears as they rounded the corner.

The group with Lieutenant Havoc’s stretcher went straight to the elevator, while Dr. Kallen’s team rushed Mustang into his own operation room. The doctor looked down at the Colonel’s exposed abdomen with intensity. 

“You said he cauterized the wound.” He felt his voice coming out stiff and clipped. “With what?” 

“Alchemy, Doctor.” Another one of his interns replied. “The woman with him said he sealed the wound closed with his own fire. Lieutenant Havoc’s wounds were also cauterized in the same manner.”

 _Damn it, Colonel._ Dr. Kallen thought furiously. _You couldn’t have let me get to you first?_

He thought of Lieutenant Hawkeye back at then entrance of the hospital, who was probably fighting with his poor intern to let her through. He could still see the terror in her eyes, her uncharacteristically shaking hands. 

“Prepare for immediate operation with a laparotomy.” Dr. Kallen stated firmly. “And I need absolute focus from each one of you. The Colonel’s going to come out of this alive.”

-

_There really is no escaping those eyes._

Dr. Kallen looked down helplessly into two piercing amber eyes, swollen and red from crying and lack of sleep. They glared up at his own blue ones, demanding answers. 

The doctor sighed, and felt the corners of his mouth go up in a weak smile. 

“Your Colonel is fine.” He finally said. “He’s going to be sore for a while, and needs to stay in the hospital for another week, but he’ll be alright.”

The Lieutenant’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and she let out a sigh of relief that sounded as though she’d been holding it all night. Almost as intensely, her brows furrowed in worry once again. 

“And Lieutenant Havoc?”

His stomach clenched. Dr. Call’s words from three hours ago seemed to spiral in his head. 

_“There’s severe damage to his spinal chord.”_

_“I sense no nerve signals from the waist down.”_

_“There’s nothing I can do.”_

And for the first time in his life, Dr. Kallen couldn’t bring himself to inform someone of a patient’s condition. He couldn’t bring himself to worry the Lieutenant even more, who already looked like she’d been through hell. He couldn’t tell her that Lieutenant Jean Havoc would never, ever walk again. 

“He’s just come out of surgery.” He said, his voice cracking slightly. “He should be awakening soon in the same room as the Colonel.”

He watched as the Lieutenant dashed past him, her military boots clicking frantically as she ran. His heart sank terribly like nothing he’d ever experienced before. 

They’d find out eventually. 

-

He found the Colonel in the lounge, slumped over one of the seats. The Lieutenant stood watch, the ever constant guardian watching over him. 

Dr. Kallen approached them slowly, and recognized the book the Colonel was reading as one of Dr. Call’s. No one said anything as he joined them, the air heavy and suffocating. 

“Is there no chance at all, Doctor?”

Dr. Kallen inclined his head towards the Colonel, and found obsidian black eyes glaring up at him. No, this man wasn’t going to accept it until the Doctor told him so. 

Dr. Kallen sighed. “No, Colonel. He has suffered severe spinal trauma, and the nerve signals below his waist are not responding. There is no chance of recovery, nor automail. Not without a miracle.”

-

Colonel Mustang was nowhere to be found later that evening, his bed empty besides Lieutenant Havoc’s sleeping form. 

Dr. Kallen found himself watching his patient sleep restlessly, tossing and turning. He found it terribly ironic—the man who was always so impatient to get back on his feet would never stand again. The doctor felt a familiar pain in his chest begin to form.

The room seemed to increase in temperature, the clean tile floor becoming sand, soaked with bloodstains. The smell of disease and infection in the medical tent was almost suffocating, as Dr. Kallen spent his days bandaging amputated limbs. 

Private Jack Carsen, arm blown off in canon fire. 

Sergeant Stephen Taylor, legs crushed beneath a collapsed building. No chance of automail. 

Cadet Benjamin Parker, shot to the spine and shoulder. Dead within twenty hours due to complications and blood loss. 

Dr. Kallen felt the bile rise in his throat, and he leaned heavily against the wall. 

_Breathe, James. Breathe._

He opened his eyes and started to count the number of wooden blinds near the window before allowing himself to rest his sight on his patient again. There was a bottle of aged scotch on Havoc’s bedside table, the brand being one of the Colonel’s favorites. 

Dr. Kallen sighed and left a glass of water next to the bottle before following up with his next patient. 

-

The next several months were surprisingly absent of anyone of Mustang’s unit in the hospital. Lieutenant Havoc received many visits for a bit, but they came to an abrupt halt a few days after. It was as if the unit had suddenly disappeared. Only the Colonel and Lieutenant Hawkeye visited their friend every once in a while, both looking exhausted and depleted of sleep every time they came. The duo always made their visits separately. 

It wasn’t until the early winter chill had set in that he got the chance to talk to either one of them. He was about to finish a late shift at the hospital, treating a young teenager who had gotten into a car crash earlier that evening. 

He was just turning off the lights to the visiting lounge when he heard arguing voices from down the hall. 

“Colonel, I’m fine! I don’t need you to babysit me.”

“Just get it looked at, Lieutenant, since you won’t even let me _touch_ it!”

“I’m only coming to see Havoc, and that’s final!”

Dr. Kallen turned to see Colonel Mustang and his Lieutenant arguing in the doorway, both looking downright murderous at each other, soaking wet from the storm outside. 

“Colonel Mustang, Lieutenant Hawkeye…” He greeted cautiously. “It’s been a while. What brings you here?”

“We’re here to see Lieutenant Havoc. And _nothing_ else.” she said pointedly as she glared at the Colonel.

Dr. Kallen blinked. Visiting hours were well past over, as the Colonel and Lieutenant were quite aware. He had kicked them out quite a few times over the years. 

He sighed, then turned towards them with a small smile. He was lucky to have Jessica, who cared just as much for the Colonel’s unit as he did. It had been rather lonely at their dinner table lately. 

“Why don’t you go visit Lieutenant Havoc in his room, Colonel? His physical therapy ran late, so he should be finishing dinner about now.”

The Colonel stood rigid for a second, then softened a bit. 

“That…sounds good.” He turned and started towards the hallway with the elevator. He threw a pointed look at his Lieutenant over his shoulder before the doors closed behind him. 

Dr. Kallen watched the elevator chime, then turned to the Lieutenant. She shifted uneasily, and the Doctor tilted his head to observe her more closely. 

“That’s a nasty cut you’ve got on your cheek, Lieutenant. Do you mind if I take a look at it?”

Lieutenant Hawkeye tensed, her eyes darting nervously into the dark corners of the lounge. And then very slowly, she relaxed her shoulders and nodded. She followed him hurriedly into the brightly lit hallway, where he led her into an observation room off the side. 

She sat stiff as a board on the bed, her eyes continually skimming to the sides of the room. Dr. Kallen offered her a paper cup full of water, to which she sipped timidly. Under the cuff of her coat sleeve, Dr. Kallen caught the sight of bright red bruises marring her wrists. 

He held out of his hand. “May I?”

She paused, waiting, then extended her arm into the doctor’s outstretched hand. 

The Lieutenant allowed him to roll up her sleeves to examine the bruises on her wrists. His fingers skimmed the tender skin as he looked at the damage more closely, and she flinched. 

“Forgive me, Lieutenant.” He said quietly. 

Her left wrist held a similar indentation as the right one, the bruise circling around like a bracelet. 

“These look recent, Lieutenant, perhaps a couple days old at the most.”

She merely nodded, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“Is there…” he swallowed. “Anywhere else, Lieutenant? 

He wouldn’t force her—this was her choice to show him. And if she didn’t even let the Colonel come near her…

Riza sighed, then began to take off her raincoat. Her button-up shirt beneath dipped low enough to reveal the wounds that surrounded her neck. These spots were more pronounced. The same ligature mark that had circled her wrists accompanied her neck, the bruises deeper on either side of the windpipe: the tell-tale sign of attempted strangulation. 

“Lieutenant…”

But she simply shook her head and closed her eyes tightly. The doctor knew her well enough to figure that whatever had hurt her, she would not be revealing tonight. 

Dr. Kallen positioned a cold pack to the bruises around her neck, and she hissed in discomfort. He then sanitized the cut on her cheek, applied a bit of ointment, and placed a white bandage over the top. 

“I would recommend softer foods for now. Let me know if you have difficulty swallowing or breathing in the coming week.” He then handed her a couple of smaller cold packs. “Elevate the wrists before applying these.”

The Lieutenant nodded briefly. The bags under her eyes seemed to be more pronounced in the bright lights of the observation room. Dr. Kallen opened a cabinet overheard containing a stack of folders, and began to fill out a form for pain medication.

“How is your back doing, Lieutenant?” 

An innocent enough question, but Dr. Kallen kept his voice low. No need for any unwanted listeners to hear their conversation.

“Alright.” The Lieutenant replied in a small voice. “It only starts to hurt when the temperature rises in August.”

Dr. Kallen nodded, still looking at his clipboard. “I could prescribe you the same pill as last time. It seemed to help.”

He looked up and met the Lieutenant’s eyes, and he knew they were thinking of the same memory. 

That was before Jessica, during his two-year fellowship in orthopedic surgery. Placed under the direction of Dr. Geigle in East City, Dr. Kallen worked through most of the day and night, his only company being the newly promoted Colonel Roy Mustang. The Colonel was so young back then, barely hitting his early twenties. The doctor had served with the Colonel’s unit in Ishbal, treating each of the men like his own sons. He had delivered exactly three hundred and eighteen soldiers to the mortician during those seven years. He was forbidden from treating any Ishbalan patients, lest his commanding officer put a bullet through his head. And after what had happened to the Rockbells, he would not allow his parents to dig his grave before he dug theirs. 

“Just let me die, Doctor.” The then-Major had once pleaded to him in his medical tent, having been shot in the rib by a stray bullet. “They’ll just send me out to kill even more.”

Dr. Kallen continued to sew stiches around the gaping hole. “I can’t let you die yet, Major. I…I can’t lose you too.”

_Just stay alive, Mustang. Just one more day._

On his last day in the field, the doctor received a letter inviting him to practice his fellowship in the esteemed East Central City Hospital. He hadn’t even applied, but the letter stated he was selected based on recommendation. The Colonel had never mentioned it, but Dr. Kallen made it a point to drink with him every third Friday, sometimes accompanied by Lieutenant Colonel Hughes when he came down from Central. 

One such Friday evening, Dr. Kallen found himself alone at their usual bar, Mustang nowhere to be seen. The doctor shrugged, leaving his undrunk glass on the counter. He knew what happened when he drank alone. 

When he had returned home, he thought he’d just go to bed to get an early start at the hospital tomorrow when he heard a frantic knock at the door. 

It was raining terribly, and the young Colonel was practically sobbing at his doorway.

“Please, doctor…my Lieutenant…help me…”

Without another word, Dr. Kallen gathered up a bag full of medical supplies and followed the Colonel out into the rain. 

He was not prepared for the sight that met him as he entered the small apartment on the outskirts of town. The Doctor immediately had to cover his nose as bile rose in his chest—the smell of burnt flesh was unmistakably clear. A young woman lay facedown on the bed, writhing in agony. A rusty iron-colored tattoo filled the entirety of her back, displaying alchemic circles and complicated Latin—marred by three, large welts that burst and popped in the moonlight.

The doctor was at a lose for words, the sight so familiar. He rounded on the Colonel and seized the collar of his dress shirt.

“Is this your doing? You got restless, and wanted some practice burning corpses, huh?!”

The Colonel hung his head. “She begged me to burn it off. She begged me…I couldn’t finish it.”

Dr. Kallen suddenly felt warm droplets drip onto his clenched fist, and he realized the Colonel was crying. 

“Please, not her.” The younger man’s voice came out in barely a whisper. “Not Ishval again.”

The doctor stared at the Colonel for a long, hard minute, before releasing the front of his shirt. He looked over the young woman once again, who seemed to have passed out from the pain. He took a deep breath. 

“I’m going to need more supplies. Those burns are very prone to infection, and need to be treated carefully. Don’t let her roll onto her back until I return. Try to get some water in her if she wakes up.”

The tattoo had been set deep into the dermis, as if the perpetrator wanted to make sure it would never fade from existence. If the burns had been meant to obscure the ink, then Mustang had done his job. The doctor set to work, cleaning the wound as best as he could while keeping an IV hooked into the woman’s arm, pumping in vital liquids. 

He looked after the Lieutenant over the next couple of weeks. She was very distrustful of him at first, furious that the Colonel had gotten a doctor to intervene. She alternated between shock, anger, and wracked sobs. She cried silent tears every time the Doctor inserted the IV needle into her arm. The Colonel mostly sat next to her bed, watching helplessly as she fought on with gritted teeth. 

Dr. Kallen had wanted to perform a small skin graft. “The damage will be far greater if we don’t,” he argued. “It won’t look pretty, but she’ll heal faster.”

The doctor was by no means a demonologist—what he knew about treating burns he had learned in Ishval, as he treated the soldiers who were too stubborn to stay back from the Flame Alchemist’s attacks. The doctor worked well into that night performing the operation, the Colonel standing besides them all the while. 

During the second week, Dr. Kallen was able to get some conversation out of the young woman. Between sips of water, he learned that her name was Riza Hawkeye, a first lieutenant on Mustang’s unit and the Colonel’s personal bodyguard. He learned of her status as a sniper in the Ishbalan war, and how she requested to be on Colonel Mustang’s unit in East City. She never went farther than a few details regarding her personal life, and the doctor did his best to respect her privacy. 

Both she and the Colonel refused to explain anything about her strange tattoo, that started from the base of her neck all the way down to the small of her back. Dr. Kallen wasn’t stupid enough to ignore the similarities of the tattoo’s designs and the symbol on the Colonel’s gloves, but he didn’t press the issue. The Lieutenant had gone through enough already. 

By the fourth week, the burns were beginning to scab, and the doctor felt comfortable leaving the Lieutenant to her own care. Both had tried to pay him, but he declined. 

“Just try to limit your midnight emergencies.” He said as he packed up his supplies. He made sure to leave the Lieutenant plenty of bandages, cold packs, and ointments. He reached the door, and took one last look at the young Lieutenant sitting on the bed, watching him intently.

“Get well soon.”

And now those same luminous and unblinking eyes stared at him again, lost in thought.

Dr. Kallen shook his head, clearing his mind. “I’ll send you some ointment from Xing as well. Our new shipment just arrived.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Came the small, sturdy reply. 

“I would prefer it if you were to stay the night, Lieutenant.” Dr. Kallen continued, a bit forcefully. “I’d like to see how you’re doing in the morning.” 

The Lieutenant looked around the hospital room, staring into the blinding lights above. 

“Alright.” she finally replied. 

The Lieutenant was so exhausted that she fell asleep as soon as her bed was rolled into the patient room. She only requested that the lights not be turned off before sinking into a heavy sleep. 

Colonel Mustang looked so miserable that Dr. Kallen allowed him to stay a while longer, and offered him a blanket and pillow as he seated himself on the armchair next to the Lieutenant’s bed. 

“Thanks,” The Colonel murmured, his brows still creased with worry. He smoothed out the blanket on the bed, and his hand shifted near his Lieutenant’s awkwardly. “I won’t stay much longer…the Lieutenant and I can’t be seen in private for very long…”

The rain outside pattered against the window more gently now, the lights of the room making it difficult to discern the city below. The doctor made his way to the doorway, turning to look back one last time as he reached the hallway. Colonel Mustang was staring down intently at his Lieutenant, sound asleep on the bed. 

Dr. Kallen watched silently as the Colonel reached out his hand. He hesitated, then allowed his fingers to brush against the Lieutenant’s cheek, skimming just above her bandaged cut. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.” he whispered. 

Bending down, the Colonel kissed the Lieutenant’s brow softly, before folding his arms on the edge of the bed and falling into a deep slumber. 

-

Days pass. Months pass. 

And nothing, nothing at all from either the Colonel nor the Lieutenant. Jean Havoc was transferred back to his hometown, honorably discharged from both the hospital and military service. 

“You can’t save everyone, James.” Jessica whispers into his hair one night. “Just don’t forgot about me and Sarah, alright? We need you too.”

Dr. Kallen takes the next day off, and spends every moment of it with his daughter.

-

The next time Dr. Kallen sees Roy Mustang, the Colonel cannot see him at all. 

The doctor knew what was wrong as soon as the Colonel opened his eyes, and the Doctor felt the same sinking feeling he had felt after Lieutenant Havoc’s surgery. 

Lieutenant Hawkeye yes, he could treat. Though her wounds looked like she had been through hell and back, the cuts were treatable, thanks to whatever that Xing Princess did. 

But Mustang…

Dr. Kallen slid down the wall and put his head in his hands. All the knowledge in the world, all the medical advancements and alchemy put together…

There was nothing he could do. 

-

He woke to the sound of Mustang shouting.

Dr. Kallen snapped awake, his glasses askew on his face. The papers before him were littered around his desk in disjointed piles. 

Ah. He had fallen asleep at his desk again. Jessica was going to kill him. 

He supposed he couldn’t be too surprised. Lieutenant Hawkeye’s surgery had taken most of his energy, his nerves frayed from the operation. _She can’t die, she can’t die, she can’t die._

Dr. Kallen ran out of his office and down the hall, waving away the nurses that had been heading towards Colonel Mustang’s room. He stopped at the scene inside the room to see Colonel Mustang clutching desperately at the sheets beneath him. Lieutenant Hawkeye knelt over her Colonel’s bed, her back turned to him. 

“Lieutenant!” Mustang pleaded, desperate and strangled. “Where are you?”

“I’m right here, Colonel.”

“No that can’t be! You’re dead…there was so much blood…”

“I’m okay, Colonel. I’m okay! We’re in the hospital. I’m okay, I’m okay…”

Dr. Kallen listened intently as the Colonel’s labored breathing slowed, his hand gripping the Lieutenant’s tightly. 

“Hawkeye,” The Colonel’s voice came out softly this time. “Why can’t I see you?”

He said it so innocently, like how a child would ask their mother why they couldn’t open the chick’s eggs early. 

The Lieutenant sounded like she was trying not to cry. “You…you’ve lost your eyesight, Sir. After Bradley sent you into that portal…” She let out a strangled sob, evidently unable to go on. The Colonel reached out his fingers above him, as if searching for his Lieutenant’s face.

“Riza….Riza, don’t go…”

Dr. Kallen choked back his sorrow and stumbled away, listening to the Colonel repeating his Lieutenant’s name like a prayer. 

-

Dr. Kallen decided that, in the end, it wasn’t exactly a miracle. 

The Philosopher’s Stone…born out of thousands of lives in order to bypass the rules of the universe. Very powerful, very dangerous. It could either heal or destroy an entire nation. Either way, it cost too many souls to number. 

He refused to speak his opinions on the matter. He, who had turned away more wounded Ishvalans than soldiers he treated, had no right to speak for their lives. 

But he can’t help it as he sees Jean Havoc standing proudly in the doorway of his office, a bottle of aged scotch in his hand with the biggest smile he’s ever seen. The Doctor slaps him on the back and feels a grin reach muscles that have been frowning for months. It’s almost as if the man has been brought back to life. 

The newly promoted General Mustang stays another week next to his Lieutenant (now Captain’s) side as her neck injury heals. When he’s not buried in books about Ishvalan culture, Dr. Kallen catches him staring at Captain Hawkeye as though he’s never quite seen her properly before. 

“And what are your plans for the future, General?” Dr. Kallen asks one day as he does his daily check-up on the Captain. 

The General stands facing the window, hands behind his back. He is barely recognizable from the broken man who came back from Ishval, trying his best to drink away his guilt on the weekends. 

“I’m going to honor Dr. Marcoh’s request.” He says confidently, now facing him. “I will not allow another Ishval to happen, and I will make sure that its people will never see another day of suffering again.”

The General smiles, then turns back to the window with a determined air. “Everyone will receive their just recompension. Everyone.”

Dr. Kallen thought the statement to be a bit off-putting, but he doesn’t press the issue. General Mustang seems to be lost in his thoughts again, while Captain Hawkeye continues to read her book without turning any pages. 

_Curious. Very curious indeed,_ thought the doctor as he walked down the hall. He found himself repeating the prayer he had often said during those cold, still nights in the desert. 

_Just live, Mustang. Live just one more day._

Live for Ishval, for the future of Amestris. Live for a certain blond-haired Captain of yours, who would never, ever leave you if her life depended on it. Live for the sound of falling snow, to the smell of freshly baked bread in the morning. Live for the embrace of a lover’s arms, to the soft giggles of your daughter when you come home from work. Live to take care of those around you so you can build a better world, little by little. 

Live to become something more than you were yesterday. 

Captain Hawkeye is discharged the next day, the General drinking in the sight of her as she laughs to Jessica’s jokes. Dr. Kallen holds Sarah close, letting a small smile slip through. 

No, the Philosopher’s Stone wasn’t a miracle. It was a choice—one that each one had to make for themselves. Equivalent exchange could never truly be met in all cases—sometimes it all depended on how one decided to move forward. 

-

The entire unit comes to celebrate Sarah’s one-year birthday party. Jessica and Fuery are deep in conversation about cooking recipes, Hawkeye plays with Sarah, and the General leads a game of cards against Falman, Breda, and Havoc. Mustang quickly loses, and goes to join the doctor in the corner of the living room.

“You always were lousy at cards,” Dr. Kallen commented as the General sunk sulkily into the armchair besides him. “Thanks for all those bets by the way, I believe I'm all set for retirement.”

“Oh, shut up.”

The doctor laughed, and the two men settled into a comfortable silence. Sarah for once wasn’t crying, quite content to be in the arms of the Captain. Every once in a while, Hawkeye would catch the General’s eye. She always looked down immediately, a very slight blush tinging her cheeks. 

“I assume you’re not staying in Central, General Mustang?”

The General tore his eyes away from his Captain and chuckled. 

“You know me too well, Doctor. We’re going to Ishval to start reconstruction—now that Fuhrer Grumman has lifted the Ishvalan Policy, it’s time to start rebuilding. We’ll be heading down in the later part of the year.”

“I suppose this means that your unit won’t be bothering my hospital anymore?” The doctor supplied. “I believe the nurses are very well acquainted with your body in addition to your name by now.”

“Very funny, Doctor.” The General said dryly. Then he paused, and his tone became serious. “The Captain and I were talking earlier…we are still in need of a few good doctors out there. Would you…would you be interested in going?”

Dr. Kallen looked at the General in surprise, letting the weight of his request sink in. Move his entire family to Ishval? Jessica didn’t like the heat, and they’d be so far away from any family…

And then the faces of the Ishvalans he had sent away crept up in his mind. Normally, he tried to block them out, as the very thought made him want to shrink into a ball and never recover. But he allowed himself to remember them this time—the toughened dark tone of their skin, the desperate look in their ruby eyes, and their outstretched fingers as they crept into his medical tent on the outskirts of the military camp. 

_Coward._ He thought once again. _You as good as killed them._

He couldn’t bring back the dead, any more than the General beside him could. Not even a Philosopher’s Stone could bring back a life that had already left this world. Going to Ishval could never atone for the sins he had committed there. 

And yet…he couldn’t stand still anymore. He had promised Winry that, a long time ago before the grave of Sarah Rockbell. 

_“It’s nice that you’re here, Dr. Kallen.”_ she had said, looking very much like her mother had all those years ago. _“But I think my mother would have wanted you to take the fellowship in East City. She wouldn’t want you to stop living.”_

_What do I live for?_

Dr. Kallen smiled. “I accept your offer, General Mustang. On one condition.”

The General gave him a curious look. “Oh? And what’s that?”

“Try not to take too much offense to this, General.” Dr. Kallen said solemnly. “But I don’t want to see you in my hospital again for a very long time. At least not until Captain Hawkeye delivers your first child.”

The General spluttered, his usually composed features turning bright red and frantic.

“We’re not…she’s not…Dr. Kallen!”

But the Doctor simply laughed and stood up, stretching. “I look forward to Ishval, General. And to the day where our country will be placed in your capable hands. Don’t let me down, Roy.”

And with the General still slightly pink behind him, Dr. Kallen went to rejoin his family, the sounds of laughter ringing throughout the house.

**Author's Note:**

> There are a couple details in the story that are inspired by @lantur’s “delicate.” Roy being Riza’s first of kin, the mentions of “his/her Lieutenant/General", and the preparation for the Ishvalan reconstruction are all inspired by her fic. If you’re as much as a sucker for Royai like I am, then I HIGHLY recommend you read it, it’s simply wonderful! 
> 
> Roy and Havoc being healed by the Philosopher’s Stone is interesting to me, and there’s a lot of opinions on both sides. On one hand, I do find it morally unethical, but every fic I read about a blind Roy also makes me really sad as the choice to perform human transmutation was forced upon him. Based on Dr. Kallen’s character, I just think he’s tired of seeing soldiers suffer and die and wants the best for the unit that he’s grown to care for so much. 
> 
> I also tried to make it clear that even though Dr. Kallen was a medic for the Amestrian side alone, this didn’t mean that he didn’t sympathize with the Ishvalans as well. In my view, the death of the Rockbells was meant to be a sign (as Kimblee was originally assigned to kill them), that anyone who treated an Ishvalan would meet the same fate. Even though Dr. Kallen didn’t explicitly kill anyone and his guilt is not anywhere near on the same level as Roy’s or Riza’s, it still took a toll on him. He chose to ignore Ishvalans who came to him for help, to let them die in fear of his own life. So instead he did his best to save as many soldiers as he could in an effort to cope. I believe that being a doctor for the Ishvalan reconstruction would be a very important step in his road to healing. 
> 
> All in all, thank you so much for reading this very disjointed one-shot! It took a lot of research into medical terms and whatnot since my degree is…not anywhere close to medicine. That being said, if you catch any mistakes in the medical jargon, don’t hesitate to let me know! (I read a lovely tumblr post by @scentedbygunpowder that really helped in the tattoo scene, so go check out the account!) I hope you’ve enjoyed this story as much as I have, and have a wonderful day!


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